Africa’s slum families forced to choose between hygiene or eating

FEW commodities symbolise the divide between rich and poor in urban Africa more than water.

Jonesta Juma has seen adverts telling her what she must do to keep her and her family safe from coronavirus.

But singing Happy Birthday twice while washing her four children’s hands is hardly practicable for either her or the tens of thousands crammed into the Kawangware slum on the western outskirts of Kenya’s capital. “It is simple,” she said. “If we wash our hands more, we eat less.”

Through odd jobs Mrs Juma brings home an average of £1.50 a day. Twenty litres of water – the same amount used in a two-minute shower – can cost up to 35p when demand is high.

As the coronavirus epidemic begins to spread in Africa, the world’s poorest continent is faced with challenges that Europe has barely had to confront.

In comparison with other parts of the world, Africa initially seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed.

Speculation mounted that perhaps the continent’s warmer climate or its younger demographics – just three per cent of sub-saharan Africans are aged over 65 – might impede its spread.

But hopes that the continent may be protected are ebbing. In the past week, cases have rocketed, rising from 129 on March 21 to 888 by yesterday. The number of states with at least one case rose from 11 to 37 over the same time period.

Tedros Ghebreyesus, the World Health Organisation director-general, warned that Africa may now be at a “tipping point”. “The best advice for

Africa is to prepare for the worst and prepare today,” he said.

That is easier said than done, however. African leaders have far fewer tools in their battle against Covid-19 than their Western counterparts.

Health infrastructure is far more vulnerable in Africa than in Europe.

Kenya’s healthcare is better than most, but it only has 155 intensive care beds for its 50 million population. South Africa, the continent’s most advanced economy, has just 1,000 for 57million people. Poorer countries’ figures are even grimmer: Mali has just 20 ventilators for 20million people. Many African governments acted quickly, building on experience fighting epidemics such as ebola and yellow fever. Nigeria, Kenya, Ghana and South Africa have shut schools and launched public relations campaigns encouraging self-isolation and social distancing.

Yet social distancing is not feasible in crowded slums like Kawangware.

In order to support his family of six, Philip Olindo must board a crowded minibus every day to complete the 30-minute commute to the office where he works as a cleaner. “I worry that by continuing to go to work I am going to end up killing my family,” he said. “But if I don’t go to work, I might also kill them – for what shall we eat?”

The fragility of African economies means even the most powerful tool open to Western governments – a lockdown – is quite possibly too risky.

Most Africans make their livelihoods in the informal sector, fixing cars, selling vegetables and hawking secondhand goods in overcrowded markets. Shutting the markets might curb the infection rate but at the price of reducing people to the brink of starvation.